


Odd Night

by vials



Category: Declare - Tim Powers
Genre: Gen, mentions of Guy anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: Perhaps the most stereotypical British habit is to talk endlessly about the weather, though in this case the weather is certainly worth discussing.





	Odd Night

The night had turned dull and stormy as the hours progressed, which was unusual for the time of year. Not the storms themselves, no, but rather the type of storm. Kim was used to snowstorms around now, because if they were going to come to this damp country it would only be at the height of winter, but what he wasn’t used to was a winter thunderstorm.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Nick asked, from where he was perched at the window, glass in hand, watching it. Kim wished he would close the curtains, but had no way of telling him this without opening himself up to a lot of questions he wouldn’t be able to satisfactorily answer. “For the time of year, I mean. Or hell, London in general. You don’t see them like this often.”

“N-no,” Kim agreed, “you don’t.”

They fell silent for a moment, and even the lamp in the corner, usually sending a warm glow through the room, seemed dull compared to the sudden dark of the night. Kim couldn’t remember a night this dark, and he supposed it was because of the lightning. For a split second the entire world would light up in that strange white-blue glow, and the darkness that followed it was the blackest Kim had ever known. 

He had always been wary of storms. For a man of his age it would look ridiculous, but if others knew what he knew – _why_ he feared them at such strange times of the year – they would perhaps understand. Of course, they could never know, and so it was Kim’s cross to bear, the only one that held any weight. Sometimes he gave himself away to the fantasy of being able to tell people what it was that made him so skittish; why he seemed like a frightened child every time the thunder rattled the windows and the lightning lit up a landscape he wasn’t sure he wanted to look upon. He wished he could tell them what it sometimes meant, wished he could warn them to keep the curtains closed, to not dare look out, no matter how curious or how convinced they were that eyes were on them, compelling them to do so, _begging_ them to do so. He wished he could confess it all, and he was not a man given much to urges of confession. Sometimes the only thing that stopped him wasn’t the secrecy of the matter but rather the fact that he knew nobody would believe him; he would be carted off to a place for the deranged and his masters would be quite happy to leave him there. Always easy to discredit, the insane, and who the Hell would believe him?

“Amazing,” Nick said, as the sky lit up again. “Remarkable, really. Are you sure you’re alright going home in this, Kim? I don’t think it would be safe.”

“No,” Kim said, for completely different reasons. “I th-think I m-might be stuck here f-for the duration of the storm, it s-seems.”

“Well, you might as well stay until morning. There’s a spare bedroom for you, and surely it would be easier.”

“It m-might be,” Kim said, noncommittally. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being so far away from his own family on a night such as this, but then again, wasn’t he being stupid? The children were baptised; they were safe. Really it would be better if he were as far away from them as possible. These things were only interested in him, after all, and if he wasn’t in the house there wasn’t a chance the children might catch a glimpse. 

“You’re welcome to it,” Nick said. “Just say the word.”

“I d-didn’t want to b-be an in-incon- _inconvenience_ ,” Kim said, “but I sup-suppose we had n-no idea the weather wa-was g-going to t-turn so terrible.”

“I’ve truly never seen anything like it,” Nick said, shaking his head. “Snow, alright, that causes enough trouble. Flooding, usually, at this time of the year. But a storm like this? And a _dry_ one, too? I couldn’t imagine it.”

It was only when Nick mentioned it that Kim realised it wasn’t raining. For some reason it made him feel cold and clammy, and he had vague memories, swimming somewhere in a part of his mind that he didn’t allow himself to think about often, of being a boy in all of those endless deserts, and of clouds rising up out of nowhere flickering with electricity, and of there being a hot, dry wind on his face that brought no rain even when the thunder was so loud his ears would ring.

“You alright, old boy?” Nick suddenly asked, and Kim realised he had been slumped slightly in his seat, frowning. “Need to get the rest of that drink down you, I think.”

“I th-think you m-might be r-right,” Kim said, straightening up so he could take another sip. The whiskey burned his throat and had a pleasant grounding effect. “Sorry I’m a b-bit g-glum, Nick. I was h-hoping to see the k-kids before they w-went to b-bed, b-but this _blasted_ weather…”

“You’re such a bloody family man,” Nick said, laughing. “Go and call them, you old fool. There’s a phone in the hallway; this isn’t the dark ages.”

Kim smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Well, c-call me an idiot,” he said, as he got up from his seat. He was glad for the excuse to leave the room, away from the large windows and their uninterrupted view of the storm, though a part of him was reluctant to leave Nick in there alone. With no distraction, he would likely remain at the window, looking out at the storm, and who knew what he might catch a glimpse of?

As he moved into the darkened hallway, Kim had a sudden intrusive memory, unwelcome and unpleasant. It had been another unnaturally dark night though not storming, and that time it had been Guy sitting in the armchair frowning into his drink and Kim enquiring if he was alright. Guy had been frightfully drunk, but that was hardly alarming for Guy, and neither was the ruffled state of his clothing or his decidedly dishevelled appearance, but it had been the way he had been speaking that had been alarming; distant and hollow and like he was talking from somewhere outside himself. 

“Just killed him straight out,” he had mumbled, shaking his head and speaking as though Kim were no longer in the room. “Can’t explain it. Don’t even remember what it was, if I’m honest. Just saw a flash of—of—oh, I don’t know, _air_ , if you’d believe how stupid _that_ sounds. Or like a heat haze, something shimmering. Didn’t look like anything much to me, but it killed him. Keeled over in the middle of giving it to my old lady, can you believe? What a way to go! Jesus Christ.” 

That was all it took, and Kim supposed that would be surprising for anyone who didn’t know as much about this as he did. He dialled his home phone number and waited to be connected, and as the line clicked and crackled, bad from the storm, he wondered what would happen if that inexplicable ripple in the air should show itself, even for a brief moment, at the window where Nick now stood. Would Kim even hear him scream? Would he have time to do such a thing? Guy had only been alerted because of his mother’s screaming. If no one was in the room, Kim might just return to find something empty where Nick had once been. 

The thought made him feel cold and it was a relief when the line clicked for the final time and Aileen’s voice appeared in his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Aileen, it’s me.”

“Kim! Where are you? I was getting worried.”

“N-no need. I’m wi-with Nick, wuh-waiting out the storm. N-no sense g-going out in it when it’s th-this bad.” As if to back up his statement, the dark hallway flashed with light let in from the frosted glass over the front door. There was a pause long enough that he was sure the call had been disconnected. “Aileen?” 

“What storm?” she asked, suddenly suspicious, but also unsure, as though she were worried there was a message she wasn’t picking up on, some code phrase she had simply forgotten about. 

“Well,” Kim said, confused, “the th-thunder. It’s r-rattling the windows.”

“There’s no storm here,” Aileen said. “Nick’s isn’t that far away, surely?”

“Well, I d-don’t know how it w-works,” Kim said, a little defensively. “Th-there’s th-thunder and l-lightning here like yuh-you’ve n-never seen.”

As if on cue, another loud crack of thunder seemed to erupt right above the house, and Kim heard Nick exclaim from the living room. _Thank God,_ Kim thought, _he hasn’t seen anything yet._ He waited for the noise to die down and then put the phone back against his ear properly; to his relief, Aileen sounded convinced.

“Good Lord!” she said. “Even I heard that. How strange that you have it and we don’t. The children will be jealous. I suppose you called to say goodnight to them?” 

“If they’re st-still awake,” Kim said. “I’ll say g-goodnight to you, too, in c-case it doesn’t let up.”

The storm was still in full swing as he returned to the living room, shaking his head. 

“Missus not given you too much of an earful, I hope?” Nick asked, mercifully turning from the window.

“No, n-nothing like that,” Kim said, easing back into his chair. “She’s juh-just confused, and t-to be honest, s-so am I.”

“What about?”

“W-well, she s-says there’s n-no storm there. N-nothing at all, I thi-think she got the th-thought I wuh-was l-lying to her at fuh-fuh-first. Until she h-heard it, anyway.” Kim shook his head again. “We’re n-not that far away.”

“No,” Nick agreed, “we’re not. How odd. Well, this is a strange storm anyway. Perhaps it’s very small. Localised. What do I know? I’m not a weather man.”

Kim nodded, only vaguely aware of the comments. There was something heavy in his chest, and while he thought he knew what it was telling him, he wasn’t satisfied with it. He wanted to know the reason for it; wanted to know why tonight of all nights things had deviated from the norm. It was about that time of year, of course, but usually they left him alone outside of those dreams. Things were different tonight, and he didn’t like to be so unprepared. 

“Do you know,” Nick said, looking out of the blasted window again, “it seems that there’s someone out there.”

Kim’s heart skipped a beat, and then another as he saw Nick lean closer. “I’m s-sure it’s juh-just some poor b-bastard running home,” he said, hoping his voice remained neutral. 

“They seem to just be standing there—oh, wait, perhaps I was mistaken. But I could have sworn I saw somebody standing right there.” Nick tapped the glass. “How strange.”

Kim took it as an excuse to stand and cross the room, coming to the window beside Nick. Outside, the street certainly looked deserted, eerily quiet between bursts of thunder with no rain to fill the gaps. It was unnerving to see a storm so full of energy but a street so dry, and despite the fact he craned his head to see, Kim couldn’t see where the clouds ended. Once again, he wondered how Aileen couldn’t see anything from home. 

“Where?” he asked, and Nick pointed again.

“By that streetlight. Could have sworn someone was there, but now that I think about it… I want to say that I saw a shadow, or a figure, but really it just felt like something should be there. I doubt that makes sense.”

“No, it m-makes perf-perfect sense,” Kim said grimly. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Nick asked suddenly, thankfully turning to look at him. “You sound very distant. Not like you at all.”

“Truth be t-told,” Kim said, seizing the chance, “I’m in r-rather a beastly mood.”

“Anything in particular, old boy?”

“N-Not anything I c-can talk about in t-too much d-detail, unfortunately,” Kim said, and in a strange, roundabout way, it wasn’t a lie. “I’m wuh-wondering if I sh-shouldn’t just d-dash back to w-work. I can’t st-stop thinking about ev-everything I n-need to do, and I c-can’t be around you. I’d b-be a total arse, if I’m b-blunt.”

“Oh, come now. You know I don’t care about that. But if it will make you feel better, by all means. I do wish you wouldn’t walk in the storm, though.”

“I’ll be f-fine,” Kim said, and he knew he would be. These things never wanted to _harm_ him, after all, even if they were always after something. “I’m n-not the tallest th-thing around here b-by a long shot, a-and it’s not far.”

“I suppose, I suppose,” Nick said, draining his glass. “I’ll let you go if you feel you have to, but feel free to take up that spare bedroom offer.”

“Of course,” Kim said. “I ap-appreciate it.”

He thought of laying there all night, leaving his curtain open so it would know which room he was in. He thought about having to lay there all night with its eyes on him, and then he thought of worse – of it lurking around the house, peering in any way it could; of Nick or his wife catching a glimpse of it, just a single one, and of finding whoever it was in the morning, empty, devoid of life, their faces frozen in a mask of fear. Kim had read about such deaths from centuries ago and he could still remember the wording: _it was said she had died from Terror; it was said the Terror killed him_ – how could _terror_ kill a perfectly healthy person, people had often asked. Oh, they could understand heart attacks, the shock of it inducing some awful reaction like that, but they had never understood how a perfectly healthy person could die of _the Terror_. 

Kim knew, of course. He knew it all too well, and he wouldn’t bring it to Nick’s house. He could forgive everything else he might do to Nick, but not that. 

“Th-thank you,” Kim said again, on his way out of the door, “b-but I really must insist.”

“No worries, old boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kim’s sudden departure was odd, but certainly not the strangest thing Nick had seen that night. He could write one thing off to his eyes playing tricks on him, he supposed, but not the others – the storm, and Kim’s behaviour. He moved back to the living room and sat down with a new drink, and by the time he had done so, as if to make it an even three, he realised the storm outside had, abruptly, ceased.


End file.
